Hipster Rugrats: Chuckie the Bro
by ReptarLover69
Summary: After a terrible fight with his lover, Tommy, Chuck runs away and befriends a group of bros and eventually becomes one. Will Chuck remain true who he is, or is the pull of the bro lifestyle too strong? This is a continuation of "Hipster Rugrats: What Have You Done?" Rated M for eventual hazing deviancy.


Chapter 1: Metamorphisis

Chuck ran out of the basement in a flurry of movement. Obviously, having to help Phil with his garden was a falsehood which Chuck had concocted as an excuse to leave after Tommy smacked him on the cheek, leaving a harsh red mark on his pale, freckeled cheek. Still, since Chuck could think of nowhere else to go, he ran to The Octopus's- I mean, Phil's- garden, his penis, still half-chubbed from the sex that he was just having ,flapped gloriously in the breeze. Chuck said a silent thank you when he looked around and saw that noone was there. He did not want to deal with anyone right now. Their stares full of pity, their patronizing words of "comfort." It was all sure to happen whenever anything bad happened to him, like when his resumes repeatedly got rejected by the Huffington Post. Chuck did not need that bullshit right now. While hundreds of thoughts ran through his head, he looked around for a place to hide, for he knew that Tommy would soon come looking for him. Right on cue, Chuck saw the silohuette of Tommy struggling to open the sliding glass door of the Kitchen. (At any given moment, Tommy had a massive amount of assorted drugs flowing through his body, making it difficult to do everyday activities, such as opening doors.)

In a panic, Chuck hurridly dashed into Spike's doghouse before Tommy could see him. He sat there udderly still, trying to breath silently until Tommy gave up looking for him and went back inside, presumably to shoot another syringe full of marijuana into his viens. He was unbelievably ascared. Tommy had lost his temper before- more times than Chuck could kount (he could only Count to about 20. After that, things just got confusing for him. 21? What the hell is that? How can 1 come _after_ 2?!) He had been verbally abusive- saying meanie things to Chuck that Chuck would not say to Chuck's worst emeny. He'd even threathened Chuck with bodily harm, but he'd never actually gone through with it. Chuck never thought that he would. What a fool he'd been. This time was different. Chuck had always known, on some level, that Tommy was bad for him. Chuck thought back to all the terrible things Tommy had said and done. He resolved right then and there to not take Tommy back. No matter what. Even if he begged, even if he cried, even if he threatened to beat his hipsterteenager brains in. He promised to himself that he would not take Tommy back; cross his heart, hope to fly, stick a poodle in his eye. This was going to be difficult. Chuck decided that he could not be here for a while. He decided to go to the gym. (What do you mean that's an arbitrary choice that makes no sense? Well fuck you, cause this is my story and Chuck will go where I tell him to go. So just shut up and keep reading. Oh, _I'm_ immature, huh? Well, I'm not the one who still picks his nose. Yeah, that's right; we've all seen your booger wall and it's disgusting. Cut that shit out, you're in your mid-twenties and also you could get an infection that way. We're worried about ya, man.)

But first, he would need to put some clothes on. He personally didn't own any workout gear nor did any of the other guys. So, he took a pair of shorts and a wifebeater from Lil's chiffarobe when nobody was looking. He hastily threw them on and swiftly left. Then he ran. He ran so far away. He just ran. He ran all night and day. ...He had to get away. Chuck stood on the corner of Euclid and Main, trying to figure out which gym he would like to attend. This Was No Easy Task because he was in the middle of the Town's FITNESS DISTRICT and there were 48 gyms within a 2 block radius. He resolved to go to Gold's Gym because the silouhette of the man lifting wieghts on the sign kinda turned him on a little.

He walked in and immediately felt self-concious about his pale, doughy body. Everybody here was tan and ripped and sexually appealing. Chuck was just a stupid four-eyes Ginger with no mussle tone of which to speak of. But not for long, he told himself. He went to go "pump some iron," as the douchebags liked to say. Soon, he would be ripped just like all of these sexy people. He picked up a couple of 3-pound weights and proceeded to work it.

Soon, Chuck felt strong. By The End Of The Day, he was able to benchpress 289 pounds. All the losers at the gym were very impress. Wow. Much exercise. Very bulge. A group of 3 bros approached him bro-ishly.

"Yo, dawg! That shit is SICK!" said one of them, presumably the leader. He was dressed in a backwards baseball cap, orange lensed sunglasses, 3 layered polos with the collars popped, a guitar pick necklace, cargo shorts, flip-flops, and a Livestrong (TM) bracelet. His legs were very hairy, he had a 5 o'clock shadow, a douchey grin, and was totes ripped. Also, he had a sick sleeve of wicked cool tattoos on his arm, mostly flames and chicks with big boobies and flaming dice on fire.

"Hey, thanks." said Chuck trying to hide his embarrassmment.

"No worries, my man!" said the douchebag "B. , my name's T-Dawg." He then introduced his bros.

Boner was a portly fellow with the shiniest, most blackest, rigid-looking hair that you ever did see, spiked straight up. He was wearing an Ed Hardy t-shirt that was covered in mustard and beer stains and silky basketball shorts. On his face he wore a douchebag linebeard that accentuated his impressive double chin. He had a meatball sub in one hand and a Smirnoff Ice (TM) in the other.

Jizzinator (more casually known as "The Jizz" or simply "Jizz") was a smaller chap with less muscle tone than the others due to his petite frame. He wore a backwards, upside down visor, through which his unkempt bedhead peeked through, a wifebeater that had obviously not been washed in quite some time, wrinkled plaid cargo shorts, a gold necklace with a diamond-encrusted gold dollar sign, and Air Jordans (TM). He was drinking a FourLoko (TM).

"So what's your name, bro?" T-Dawg asked Chuck.

"Chuck." replied Chuck.

"Hey, Chuckster!" said Boner.

"Chuckarino!" said Jizzinator

"So, ChuckMan, wanna go get some 'za?" asked T-Dawg.

"You know it!" Chuck said, caught up in the comraderie with his new BFFs. They all made their way out of the gym, whooping and hollering all the way and chanting "'Za, 'za, 'za!" They handed Chuck a FourLoko.

They entered the pizza joint and the bros immediately started cat-calling all the fine-ass bitches up in that place.

"Hey, baby!" Said T-Dawg to a hot chick with big bouncey tits. "I wanna fuck you!"

"I wanna motor your boats!" said Boner to her slightly-portly-but-still-attractive friend.

"I wanna do anal to you!" screamed Jizz to a comely young lady.

Chuck stood silently as the bros harrassed the women. "Hey, guys, don't you think you should tone it down a little? I think you might be making them uncomfortable."

They stared at him dumbfounded for a moment. "What are you, gay?" said T-Dawg in an unfriendly manner.

Chuck hesitated. For some reason, he really wanted to fit in with these guys. He really wanted them to like him. Not in a sexual way, just as a bro. Up until now, he felt like he belonged. He felt accepted. He felt... safe. He thought that, as long as he was part of this group,noone could ever hurt him again.

So, Chuck scoffed. "Hell, no! I ain't some pussy-ass fag! C'mon, guys, that was just a joke."

They eyed him skeptically.

Chuck panicked for a moment. He frantically looked around for a woman. Then he spotted one. "Hey, you, uh... woman... chick. Nice, um, knockers!"

There was a Moment of Silence. Then, the bros burst with laughter. "Chuckster! Gettin' bitches!" said T-Dawg, as he slapped Chuck on the back.

_That's it, _thought Chuck_. I'm never going back. This is the first chaper in the book titled "The Rest of My Life."_


End file.
